


They Grow Up So Fast

by memai



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Ghoul Prejudice, Mention for Gob having a happy ending for once, the BoS is not painted in a good light here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29650572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memai/pseuds/memai
Summary: A long one-shot about Underworld’s Carol adopting a runaway Lamplighter as her own. She feeds him, raises him, and even remembers which comic book character he likes. But these smoothskins always grow up a little too fast, don’t they?Done as an introduction to a Fallout 4 character of mine (hence the tags). Comments and kudos appreciated!
Relationships: Carol/Greta (Fallout)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	They Grow Up So Fast

The chill of the November winds barely stirred the shambling denizens of Underworld. The marble-lined hallways glowed with warmth from lit barrels. Rotting hands and bodies huddled close together, respite from a long day of hard work. Stories were passed around, so too bottles of liquor and bowls of bread and stew.

Just another day, it’d seem.

Carol scrubbed the stubborn stain at the countertop, determined even when Greta told her that there’d be no use. “It’ll come out one day,” she told Greta, “Just wait and see.”

Greta tapped the wooden spoon against the hot, bubbling pot of stew. She hummed an answer that sounded like doubt, and pulled a lid over her concoction.

But so often on such nights that something extraordinary happens.

Carol barely heard it. Strained, damaged vocal chords screaming and hollering at something. Drunks, she dismissed at first, but when the yelling grew more frantic, she couldn’t help but perk her head up. Even Greta turned her attention away from the stove.

“What’s going on?” Greta asked, wiping her hands down a stained, ancient apron.

“I don’t know,” Carol replied as she walked around the front counter of their bed and breakfast. The two of them peered down to the atrium, where a crowd began to form around Quinn… and what looked like blood all over his hands and clothes.

“Someone get Barrows out here!” A resident shouted. It wasn’t long before Graves and Barrows came rushing out of their clinic, kits in hand to help.

It was then when the doctor barked orders to clear space around Quinn, did Carol see what all the fuss had been about: a young boy, unconscious and unmoving, laid on the marble floor bleeding. Makeshift bandages that Quinn had mustered out there were soaked through in a bright shade of red.

Carol hadn’t realized her hands had flown over her heart in shock.

She watched as the doctor and his nurse went to work on treating the boy, swapping out the old, soaked bandages, cleaning an impossibly garish wound just below his ribs. She heard Barrows yell, picking up the boy in his arms. The crowd parted, silently following the pair with curious, milky stares as they disappeared into their clinic.

Then heavy, awkward silence filled the whole settlement. Quiet and unnerving, before the ghouls began murmuring amongst themselves. 

Carol watched idly as Winthrop came by with a bucket and a mop, cleaning up the mess on the floor as Quinn quietly wept into his sleeve. Winthrop patted him on the shoulder, before continuing his job. The crowd began to dissipate, and some of the other residents helped Quinn up to his feet.

“That poor thing,” Carol sighed.

“It’s those Brotherhood goons,” Greta practically spat the word out, “Shooting things, turning our backyard into their warzone. I’m telling you, if it wasn’t for them, we’d still be getting smoothskins in here in one piece.”

“He must have been the third one this week,” Carol lamented.

“Well, he’s Barrows’ problem now.”

“I suppose.” Still, Carol’s eyes never left the entrance of the clinic.

She felt warm, soft palms on her shoulder, and the whistling hiss of her lover’s voice, “I know, hon.”

“He looked so young.”

“I know.”

“That poor thing…” Carol repeated, “That poor thing.”

“Hon?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong...”

Carol could feel what was left of her throat tightening, eyes stinging with tears. “I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up.”

“It’s always sad when it’s a kid.”

Carol wanted to say it shouldn’t be like that. Kids shouldn’t have to be facing the business end of a laser rifle or staring down goons in power armor. But there he was, wasn’t he? She sighed, regaining her composure.

“Do you want to talk about it, hon?” Greta tried.

Carol stayed silent, shaking her head as an answer. Wordlessly, she kissed her lover on her cheek, before going back to scrubbing the stubborn stain off the countertop. 

* * *

The next morning was quiet.

Well, as quiet as Underworld could be. The old pipes rattled behind heavy walls. The ghouls groaned as they began waking up to start their day. Some still groaned from their hangovers as they peeled themselves off the floor and back to their rooms.

But for Carol and Greta, their kitchen was busy as ever. One by one ghouls of every type took their seats at the counter and tables. 

“Sunny side up, please.”

“Omelettes, three eggs this time, doll.”

“Coffee, the strong stuff.”

Every order was scribbled down in Carol’s looping handwriting for Greta to fulfil. Plates were slid down the slick and sparkling marble countertop, caught skillfully in the rotting, hungry hands of the ghouls they called friends and neighbors.

One ghoul in particular caught Carol’s attention.

“Heya Quinn,” she greeted with a bright, beaming smile. “The usual today?”

He didn’t look up at her, mumbling out, “Yeah.”

Carol dropped her smile, “I saw what happened last night.” She pursed what was left of her lips, “You want to talk about it?”

Quinn met her gaze, and it was then Carol noticed they were wet with tears.

“Is he…?”

“He’s alright,” Quinn answered finally, “I just… wow.”

Carol looked around for a moment, and saw the others tucking away at their meals. The clanking of forks against plates, the gentle sizzle of Greta cooking.

“I’ll get your order, alright? You tell me when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Carol.”

His order had been a simple one. Always had been. Toast and eggs, sometimes he’d ask for leftovers from dinner. Carol plated some beans for the trouble. He never drank coffee like the others, always warm water. She’d offer before if he’d like a little bit of mutfruit on the side. Maybe some of the fancier dinner rolls. But he’d politely decline.

She returned to his table with his order and a smile.

“You’re the best, you and Greta,” he managed. “Last night was rough.”

Carol folded her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers in anxiety. “We saw everything from up here.” She noticed then the bandages on his arm and fingers. “Did they get you too?”

“Just debris, nothing too bad. The kid got the uh… he got the full blast of that rifle.”

“Oh my god,” Carol reached to the small pendant on her neck, fiddling with it some, “They just… shot him?”

“Tried to,” Quinn shrugged as he poked at his eggs. “The mutants heard the commotion and distracted them long enough for us to make it back to the curb. Willow barely got us into the door.”

“Now why on earth would they bother you, Quinn? They’ve never had a problem with you before.”

Quinn swallowed a lump in his throat. “I told this kid, Lee, that I’d pay him fifty caps if he could help me get a terminal outta the office building down the block.”

Carol listened intently, half-horrified.

“He got the terminal, and it’s… it was nothing, you know? It was an old beat up thing I was gonna sell to Winthrop for scrap. But they stopped the kid and me, told us to hand it over. The kid said no. I didn’t think they’d fire. One of them fired a warning shot but it kicked up all this debris. He didn’t budge. They tried forcing it out of his hand and… I don’t know. It was chaos.”

“Oh god…”

“Next thing I knew the kid fell down in a heap and I heard the mutants come stomping outta their hidey-holes. While they were distracted I grabbed the kid and ran home.” He shook his head, sighing.

“All this over a terminal?”

“You ask me? I think they just wanted an excuse to shoot at something.”

Carol let the silence stew between them for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad we got outta there alive, but…” Quinn managed enough of an appetite to begin taking bites out of his food. “I thought that kid was a goner, but doc says he made it through the night.”

Relief. Sweet relief. It flowed through Carol like a warm drink on a cold night. “That’s good to hear but… what a thought. All those Brotherhood soldiers with their rifles.”

“I’m gonna have to figure out another route out of the Mall at this rate. Maybe let the others know not to take the open roads.” Quinn spoke through a mouthful of food. “Logistics, don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re both in one piece.”

“If you want,” Quinn managed, “I’m sure the kid wouldn’t mind some of Greta’s cooking. Promised him a meal when we got here, and I ain’t about to break a promise yet.”

Carol would have to remember that.

* * *

By the time the afternoon sun hung high in the sky, Underworld was mostly quiet and empty. Traders travelled out to scavenge and hustle, Winthrop was tucked away in the bowels of the museum fixing up old pipes and heating. Drunks napped away their hangovers. And Doc Barrows was probably waiting for lunch.

Today was stew. Heartier than usual, Carol thought, but the nights were getting colder, and the good doctor was always too busy to ever come up himself. Bowls in a tray, Carol made her way over to the inappropriately named Chop Shop.

Nurse Graves was the one who addressed her first, sweet as ever, “What’s on the menu today?”

“Everything stew,” Carol laughed, setting down the bowls. Graves took some and began helping. 

“We didn’t ask for extra.”

“Oh, it’s for the uhm,” Carol looked around, and there he was. “The boy.”

“Ah,” Graves nodded, “He just came ‘round. Doc says he’s a little dehydrated, we’ve got him on a drip right now, but I don’t think he’d say no to some food.”

Carol looked around and didn’t see the doctor in sight. “Is it alright if I-- I mean, would Barrows mind?”

Graves shrugged, “He told me to get some food from you later anyway. You just saved me a walk.”

She approached him, bowl and spoon in hand, and placed it on the wobbly table next to his bed. She smiled at the boy, handsome even with the large gash from his chin, cutting past his lip and stopping right by his nostril.

“I heard about what happened,” Carol addressed him, “I thought you could use some food.”

She watched as his big, brown eyes regarded her carefully. At least he wasn’t screaming. Or flinching. Or… moving much for that reason. She furrowed her brows in worry, regular humans were so fragile, let alone a little boy.

“He’s got pain-killers pumped in him,” Graves said from her terminal, “He’s a little groggy.”

“Well, Lee? Was it Lee?”

She got a weak nod in response.

“Well, I got you some stew. Don’t worry! It’s safe for you smoothskins.” She had to resist the urge to pet him on the head. “You were very brave for helping Quinn like that.”

His eyes darted around the room, confused.

“He’s out working right now. He’ll be back later in the evening,” Carol answered. That seemed to satisfy him.

“Make sure you eat up, you’ll need your strength back if you want to make it back home.”

He seemed to deflate at that.

Had she said something wrong?

* * *

The next few days passed by with little incident. Every afternoon, Carol packed lunches for Barrows and Graves, with an extra helping for the boy, Lee. He never spoke much whenever she served him, but smiled politely and nodded whenever she asked questions. She wondered if he was shy. Or… she wondered if her appearance shocked him.

Wouldn’t be the first time that a smoothskin screamed at her looks.

Still, she continued to feed him. She caught sight of the way he read old pre-War comic books, the same ones she’d see sold in newspaper stands centuries ago. He had the same look of wonder like the boys back then too. Some things never changed.

It wasn’t until one day, as she continued her routine, did Greta nudge her.

“Look,” her partner whispered, smug and clever.

Sure enough, when Carol looked over her shoulder and to the entrance of their establishment, the boy was peering around the corner.

“Well, if you want something to eat,” Greta turned around to greet the boy, gesturing for him to come in, “You better get it while it’s lukewarm. I think the stew stopped moving half an hour ago too.”

Something delightful fluttered in Carol’s chest when she saw the way his teeth poked out from behind a laugh.

“Come on in, Lee,” she welcomed, “You must be hungry!”

He took careful steps into the restaurant. She noticed the way he looked at the other ghouls, careful and wary. But Carol kept her bright beaming smile on him, “Don’t be shy.”

Lee sat on a squeaky old barstool. He was bandaged around his torso, and Barrows stitched up the gash on his face. But he looked cleaned up, and his eyes were bright. A handsome young boy, she wondered who he belonged to and where he came from.

He folded his hands neatly on the countertop, “We’ll get something fixed up for you, sweetie, on the house,” Carol offered. She pulled out old bottles of Nuka Cola, and fetched a spoon and bowl.

“Hey, hey! There’s my knight in shining armor!” Quinn’s voice pulled the attention of everyone in the establishment for all but a moment.

“The usual?” Carol asked.

“Always.” Quinn turned to look at the lad, “How’re ya feelin’?”

Lee shrugged, “Could be worse.” His voice still rasped from sleep.

“Well, hey, don’t say ol’ Quinn never gave you anything.” In his pockets he fished out a cap-filled purse, and began counting a stack of fifty. “For the job.”

Lee stared reverently at the stack.

“I can’t take this,” he tried to push it back, “I didn’t finish the job.”

“You’re right, you didn’t. But you stood up to those Brotherhood guys, so I think you deserve a fair shake anyway.”

Quinn pushed the caps into the boy’s hands, and Carol smiled at the way his eyes seemed to go as wide as dinner plates as he carefully counted each one.

“You don’t take any guff, huh, kid?” Greta said as she served him food.

Lee looked up to her, unafraid, “I was from Little Lamplight.”

Quinn whistled in amazement, “Well that explains it.”

Carol blinked. Little Lamplight. So… no parents then. She couldn’t place why, exactly, but her heart broke just that little bit knowing that. There were plenty of orphans in her day as well, but this one? Something about a young boy so brave and… so alone. 

“Well, you make yourself at home, alright?” Carol smiled at him, “I know we all look the way we do. But we’re glad to see you make it one piece.”

Lee only shrugged through a mouthful of warm mirelurk cakes, “I’ve seen uglier mung—adults. None of them bothered to feed me, you’re alright in my books.”

Quinn stifled a laugh.

“How old are you, Lee?” Carol asked.

“Fourteen, I think.”

Greta squinted. “You don’t look fourteen.”

“What do you want from me, lady?”

Greta howled with laughter. Oh, Carol liked this one.

She _really_ liked this one.

* * *

Days turned to weeks.

Weeks turned to months.

And those months would eventually turn into years.

It hadn’t been long before Lee found himself housed among the decaying denizens of Underworld. Friendly smoothskins like Sydney and that 101 fellow made things easier for Lee to find his place. 

Carol had given him a bed of sorts, before eventually they managed to cobble together a small room for the boy. Temporary at first. But he kept coming back. And sometimes, when he had nothing better to do, he stayed in his room and read comic books and drank cola.

After the bandages came off and the wounds turned to gnarly scars, Carol found that he had a handsome, feline face. Pretty brown eyes and full lips. All a deadly concoction when combined with his wit and sarcastic sense of humor.

This one would be a heartbreaker, she joked once to Greta.

Greta only shrugged and grumbled. “When he gets old enough he’ll leave.”

“Oh hush, he’s such a dear.”

“Didn’t know we filed the adoption papers already.”

“Well, I mean…” Carol didn’t want to admit that she loved having Lee around. With Gob off to see the world, Lee fit that void in her heart nicely. He was different, but she loved the experience all the same. Someone to care for. Someone who needed her just that little bit.

The bombs fell and dashed her dreams. But maybe she could make something with what she was given.

But humans grew, didn’t they? His dark straight hair grew awkwardly, and tried as he might to cut it himself, it surprised even Carol that she hadn’t thought to send him to Snowflake.  _ He  _ was only too enthusiastic at the prospect of finally working on a full head of hair, and Lee needed all the help he could get.

She remembered standing behind him as he combed back his hair, and smiled, proud of her work. “There we go, handsome!”

“I dunno, don’t ghouls have a different idea of handsome?”

“Well,  _ I  _ think you’re handsome.”

“Gee,” came the sarcastic reply, “Thanks mom.”

Carol’s eyes grew wide in surprise.

And so too, Lee’s.

“ _ Carol. _ I meant Carol.” He averted his gaze, his face flushed red from embarrassment and she could see the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair he was sitting on.

But her eyes stung with wetness. Her throat closed up with a kind of happiness she couldn’t quite place. She reached her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him on the head.

Mom. He called her ‘mom’.

* * *

He began to call her  _ and _ Greta ‘mom’. A novelty, at first. A shocking one at that.

But everyone in Underworld got with the program. Quinn would ask Lee where his ‘mothers’ were. Tulip would ask Carol how ‘her boy’ was doing. Even Gob expressed excitement in his letters home, “Never had a brother before!”

She comforted him when she heard him sob in the middle of the night. Teenage angst meant he never shared more than a simple, “It’s nothing,” when she held him close and let him cry into her shoulders. She never pushed. They all had demons to fight, she tried to be there for him when it mattered.

When he sulked and moaned, she would sit with him and tell him about stories of her life before the Great War. A topic that fascinated him, she found. He’d badger Quinn for stories, and the old ghoul was only too happy to oblige.

“You’ve been to the Commonwealth?” She overheard him say over lunch.

“Oh yeah, all the way north.”

“What’s there?”

“More of the same,” Quinn joked, “Better mirelurk cakes, though. The bad accents still stuck around, if you could believe it.”

“Really?”

And Quinn would put on an impression which had Lee scrunching his nose in stifled laughter. “Stop, they do  _ not _ sound like that!”

“When you’re big enough to go on your own, you’ll see for yourself.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ll pay you another fifty caps if you can figure out what they mean by ‘park the car at Harvard yard’.”

* * *

He eventually got big enough to follow Quinn. First, it was marked by his need to get better fitting clothes. Poor Quinn scrounged up whatever bits of old clothing he still had in stock and fixed what he could for the lad. He didn’t complain, happy to be outfitted in whatever he was given. He was dressed in rags when he first ended up in Underworld all those years ago, that he had a decent pair of pants was a considerable step up from those first few days in Dr. Barrows’ office.

Second, came the desire to see more of the world and do more around the settlement. As much as he was content to help Carol and Greta in their bed and breakfast, fewer smoothskins passed through the Mall the stronger the Brotherhood of Steel became. The Mall practically turned into a shooting gallery if the wrong patrolling soldier happened by. Lee had enough of living in fear, it seemed.

“I want to help around more.”

“You already do so much here,” Carol tried, “You help with the dishes and the prep, and you help fix things. Really, there’s plenty for you here.”

“I know but… I don’t want to be stuck in Underworld forever, you know?”

It was like an arrow had struck her heart at those words. Gob had spoken those same words years ago, and even though her ‘sons’ had met… Gob’s visits were far and few in between. The outside world offered excitement that no young man could resist.

But so too, danger.

“Aw, c’mon, no don’t cry,” Lee would try, “I was thinking of you know, just helping out Quinn.”

“He goes to some really dangerous places.”

“And he comes back every morning for toast and eggs.”

“You could get hurt!”

And every time he’d point to his scar, “And I got better!”

“Lee…”

“I’ll be fine. Maybe I can help bring in more caps, get better ingredients from Rivet City.”

“I don’t think anyone could afford anything so fancy.”

And Lee would just say, “Well, maybe I’ll ask for Rivet City’s leftovers then.”

He’d bring it up every now and then. At dinners. During working hours. Whenever they had a quiet moment to themselves.

But she still swelled with pride when Quinn fitted him with a set of leather armor and a shotgun.

“I’ll be back, promise!”

“You make sure he does, Quinn!”

“Don’t worry, we’re just going to Rivet City. We’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“If you don’t, I’ll find you.” Greta would threaten.

That first day, Carol sobbed when Lee walked out the door together with Quinn. A parallel to that first night he had stumbled into her life.

* * *

He returned. As he always did.

It had been a flurry of emotions. She remembered, one night, how she was excited to finally get enough ingredients together to make a simple birthday cake.

“Like in the old days?” Greta asked, “Isn’t he… a little old for birthday cakes and surprise parties, hon?”

“Hm?”

“He’s turning sixteen, not  _ six. _ ”

But Carol shushed her.

“It’ll be fun, who doesn’t like a surprise?”

She’d soon find out how ironic her statement would be.

As the night progressed, Quinn stumbled up to the bed and breakfast and pulled his hat off his rotting head in apology, “Uh… Lee got hurt.”

Carol stopped mixing the batter immediately. She didn't bother to ask what had happened. She pushed past him over to the Chop Shop, her apron still dusted with flour and bedroom slippers still on her feet.

How she fussed as Lee was treated for a shot in the leg.

“Three more inches this way and it would’ve hit an artery,” Dr. Barrows clucked his tongue, “You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“What can I say doc?” He said through gnashed teeth and winces, “The wasteland, she loves me.”

“Bullet might not have killed you,” Barrows looked over the rim of his glasses, his milky eyes pointing to Carol who was knotting her fingers anxiously, “But your mother might.”

* * *

“I’m going to kill him,” Greta said simply, folding her arms across her chest in disappointment.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Jet.” Greta shook her head.

Carol hung her head, “Where would he have picked it up?”

“He’s going out with Quinn…”

“Quinn doesn’t do Jet… does he?”

“Who knows what the old bat gets up to when he’s out there, hon.”

“No… Lee wouldn’t.” 

The discovery had been an accidental one. Carol had meant to clear up his room, nothing more than sorting away some laundry and tidying up his things. He didn’t own much and he kept things organized… mostly.

But it was by pure happenstance that she looked under the bed, and there it was. An inhaler with a red tab. Jet.

Carol hung her head, let her shoulders slump sadly. 

“I know he’s… an adult, he’s eighteen! And he can do whatever he wants but…” Carol pursed her lips, tangled her fingers, “Jet… Oh god.”

“Well, when he gets back, let’s see him weasel out of this one.” Greta sounded like she was ready to reach for the rolling pin and give Lee a real piece of her mind.

But she stayed bolted to her seat, even as Lee entered their home, “I’m home!”

“Lee,” Carol began, “Sweetie, we need to talk.”

“Oh, sure, let me uh, go put my things away.”

Greta then put the inhaler on the table.

“I think we’re going to have this talk now, Lee.”

His face paled and he looked like he was ready to run.

“Lee? Sweetie?”

“Uh, that’s not mine?”

Greta pointed with her eyes to the empty chair between them, “Sit.”

“But—”

“ _ Now. _ ”

* * *

For all the frustration and worry she gave him, Lee was her boy. As he got older and restless, the arguments increased. Greta always stepped in to stand up for Carol. Carol was only too happy to let Lee do whatever he wanted, but Greta always pulled him back to his senses. He might have fought it, but he always came back from those flights of fancy.

But today… well, as much as she would have loved to call him her little boy… he was twenty-four, and finally experienced enough to take on a large job without Quinn’s help.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her for what seemed to be the hundredth time that morning.

“You’re going so far away,” Carol frowned, “You’ll be so far! How will you write?”

“There are couriers.”

“It’ll take months!”

“Weeks, ma,” Lee corrected, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Well, if you’re heading up north, get me a souvenir, won’t you?” Greta came around the corner with a big oversized coat, “Never made it to Boston myself, so you know, get me something good.”

Lee pulled the coat over him, “I’ll get you the worst possible gift.”

“It’s Boston, sweetie, you won’t have to try  _ that _ hard.” Greta laughed, “You bring home a girl though, I might just give you an award.”

“Bonus points if it’s a ghoul?”

“Damn, now  _ I’m _ almost sad you’re going!”

But the laughter dimmed as Carol wrapped her arms around Lee, “Please… please come home.”

“I will, ma.” He wrapped his arms around her.

And Greta joined in too, “You be good out there, alright?”

“I will.” Lee promised.

“Don’t say it, do it.”

“Promise.”

Greta kissed him on the head. Carol got his cheek. 

“I’ll write. I promise.”

And that was the last she saw of him. Carol waited outside in the foggy morning until Lee disappeared with the other mercenaries. She waved for as long as he could see her. And she waited still until Greta urged her to come back inside.

“I just want him home already.” Carol leaned into Greta’s form.

Greta caught her in an embrace, “He’ll be back. He always comes back, doesn’t he?”

“I guess.”

“C’mon, we gotta open soon, hon.”

Another day in Underworld.

Carol sighed.

“Alright.”

But she still couldn’t take her eyes off the foggy horizon.

* * *

_ Dear Gob, _

_ How are you doing dearest? The saloon doing alright? I hear Megaton’s getting more visitors these days. I hope that doesn’t mean you’re kept too busy. _

_ Still no sighting of your brother. I ask every traveller. But no one’s seen him. Quinn says it’s been too long. Greta worries, I know. She acts like he’ll be home, but I see the way she looks out of the windows. _

_ But I’m hopeful. I try to be. That 101 fellow came through here with a friend. Says they’re going to the Commonwealth themselves. I asked them to help look for Lee. Or send word if they know where he is. I can’t expect him to come home soon, but just knowing he’s fine out there? _

_ I hope we hear from them soon. _

_ Please, tell your friends I said hello and that when it’s safer, you’ll come visit. It’s quiet without Lee. _

_ Love, _

_ Your mother _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know this got a little long but hey! Here we are! Anyway, if you made it this far, and liked the fic, I'd appreciate kudos and/or comments! Thank you so much again and I hope you have a great day ahead!


End file.
